It was dusk or later Saturday. I was walking into the Klarman Building at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, having fetched my wife some Indian food we had ordered down the street using our phones (which is great, because I am intimidated by some menus in person). Our daughter was on her third day of having her chest drained of fluid and my wife had been by her side, in the room, for the lion’s share of those 72 hours.
In front of me, family of at least three generations was entering. Their dress and personal appearance very vividly said “Muslim”. That awoke nothing tribal or sectarian in me; it was simply distinctive.
And beautiful.
I’ve spent about 3 weeks tending to our daughter as she went through surgery and recovery at BIDMC and have walked the streets and paths of that part of Boston much more than I had planned. I got very appreciative with the warm and humorous robotic voice that says “Wait!” when you press the button to stop traffic. The flow of vehicles is constant – emergency vehicles are always arriving and saving lives. The flow of people is the same.
The medical staff, walking around in their lab coats and scrubs, identify the area by how common they are on the street. The area features multiple hospitals and research centers. But also, the young adults are everywhere, no doubt due to the prevalence of so many institutions of higher learning. Too, the jobs are plainly attractive for people who are starting their careers and adult lives. Also, the ethnic mix of people is stunning and well beyond accurate accounting. Language, tribe, hue of skin, dress and hairstyles vary so much that I found myself smiling every time I walked Brookline Avenue or the Riverway – part of Boston’s Emerald Necklace.
The depth of dedication to helping people is in the air. The Muslim family, entering an institution founded and funded by the loving generosity of people – most of whom were Jewish – put a lump in my throat. They were as welcome and loved and nurtured as anyone else in that place. This goes far deeper than the Hippocratic Oath or stated corporate vision. Contrasting the conflict and self-interest in the larger population, the honor given to people’s cultural identity and heritage is integral in the care-giving.
While I’m sure none of this is done perfectly – people are people – this place is different than any I’ve ever seen. I mean, it’s on the street, in Dunkin Donuts and the Longwood Galleria food court.
I make no bones or apologies for having a spiritual life of prayer. I pray not unlike Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, though I do try to offer thanks more than complain.
And in those exchanges in this very medical area of Longwood in Boston, I received a very warm assurance that I needed to see what I was seeing and feel what I was feeling. There’s a resolute statement that I know very well from deep inside – God is good and when people can love, there’s a smile on the face of God.
LightWalking 